


imagine i'm a stranger

by shyberius



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Connor - Freeform, Connor and Zoe, Gen, Nonbinary, Oneshot, Siblings, ZOE - Freeform, Zoe Murphy - Freeform, connor Murphy - Freeform, dear evan hansen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 07:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyberius/pseuds/shyberius
Summary: "It's not a joke," Connor said. Pleaded, almost. "If you saw me for the first time, would you think I was a boy or a girl?"





	imagine i'm a stranger

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen the idea going round that Connor could be nonbinary, so I wrote a short oneshot on what I imagine that to be like! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this - please leave a comment to tell me what you think. This was fuelled by a Starbucks® white chocolate mocha and an excess of research.

Zoe knew something was up before Connor even came into her room. She could feel it from the other side of the door, like the weight of the air just before a storm breaks.

He always knocked. Zoe knew that it was to make a point, because he hated it she walked into _his_ room without knocking. It was like he was demonstrating how it should be done.

"Come in," she said, laying down her ukulele on the bed and folding her arms across her chest expectantly.

Connor nudged open the door with his dirty combat boot. He looked worse that usual: skin stretched taut over his cheekbones, dark semicircles under his eyes, hair hanging past his shoulders in dark sheets.

Zoe felt sorry for him, but not enough to add, "take those off before you get mud on the carpet."

Connor kicked off his boots as he was told, then promptly flopped down onto the bed beside her, closing his eyes as he lay down.

Zoe instinctively pushed back a stray lock of hair from his face. "Tough day?"

She didn't even need an answer. She could tell from the flayed skin around his fingernails, and his gaunt face, that he wasn't looking after himself. All the signs of self-neglect were plain.

Connor opened his eyes and squinted at Zoe. "I have a question."

"Answer my question first."

"Yes. It was tough. Now answer mine."

"You haven't asked me one yet."

Connor propped himself up on her elbows and fixed her with an unmoving stare. "Look at me," he said steadily. "Imagine I'm a stranger."

Zoe frowned. "Connor, is this some joke, or - "

"It's not a joke," he said. Pleaded, almost. "If you saw me for the first time, would you think I was a boy or a girl?"

There was a stunned silence. Zoe tried to muster some words to fill it, but found herself coming up empty. Tact wasn't her thing. "I...I mean..." What did he _want_ her to say? "A boy, I...guess?"

Connor visibly deflated. "Is that it?"

"What did you..." Zoe tilted her head to the side in confusion. "Was there something else you wanted me to say?"

Connor twisted a strand of hair between his fingers, letting it fall in a curl down his face. "I don't know. It's just...sometimes, I don't feel like a boy. Or a girl."

"So..." Zoe didn't want to mess this up by saying something wrong. Connor hardly ever - no, _never_ \- opened up to her like this, and it felt like they were on the cusp of some realisation. Something significant. She didn't want to lose it. "In what way?"

Leaning forward on the bed, Connor rested his chin on his hands. "Like I'm neither. Like I'm somewhere in between, and there's no name for it and I hate it."

She leaned forward too, so that their faces were level. They weren't looking at each other, but they shared the silence, and in that moment a flicker of understanding passed between them. "Of course there's a name for you." She said tentatively. "Even if you're not sure what your name is yet, that doesn't mean you're not real."

Connor turned to face her, his lips turning up slightly at the corners. "When did you get so wise?"

"I'm not wise. I just _know_ you."

He jabbed her with his elbow playfully. "Regrettable."

She let herself grin. The tension that had hung in the air before had eased a little. "I'm serious. Maybe you don't fit in the gender binary, but doesn't make you any different."

"Binary." Another elbow jab. "That's a big word."

"It's _three syllables_." Now it was her turn to poke him.

He squirmed backwards, laughing quietly. "It's been bothering me for a while now. I know I shouldn't care - 'gender is a social construct', or whatever - but I do. I can't help it. It feels like everything I built myself on has been a lie this whole time."

She found herself looked down at his hands: the black nail polish, always chipped. Then his face: the light makeup he stole from her dresser, eyeshadow smeared across his eyelids. It made more sense, she realised, what he was saying. "Is it pronouns that's bothering you?"

He thought about this. "I don't know. A bit. It's more the idea that I feel I should fit into some category, but I don't. And I don't think I want to lean one way or the other."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of in that," she said. "As long as you consistently don't give a shit, none of it should matter."

Connor snorted. "Did you just swear? And give me advice? At the same time?"

"Absolutely."

"And I thought _I_ was unpredictable."

"You _are_."

They looked at each other for a second. Then burst into laughter, except Connor's laughter sounded more like asphyxiation and Zoe's was too high pitched to even count as laughter. "Don't tell mom we had an actual coherent conversation," Connor managed between wheezes. "She'll think we actually like each other."

"Oh, God forbid," said Zoe.

And, despite his unwritten rule never to follow his sister's advice, Connor _did_. He learned not to care. Sure, it took practise, but when it counted, he learned to be comfortable in his own skin. Pronouns varied. Some people respected that. Some people didn't. But the people who mattered supported Connor regardless.


End file.
